


A Hot Set

by SilyaBeeodess



Series: Tales of the Fire Spirits [10]
Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25909054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilyaBeeodess/pseuds/SilyaBeeodess
Summary: Checking around the film site one, final time before shooting the next day, the Conductor finds some uninvited guests sneaking around. Chaos erupts.
Series: Tales of the Fire Spirits [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613302
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	A Hot Set

He needed a drink.

It’d been a long trip and transporting his crew what felt like halfway across the planet hadn’t been easy, especially since they couldn’t go by his beloved train to get to their next film site. However, for this scene, the Conductor needed a prairie and no set any of his owls designed was up to par with the real thing. The wind rolled past him, and although he couldn’t see much of the vast, rolling hills ahead under the near pitch-black sky, he could hear the rustle of waves of tall grass stretched as far as the eye could see.

Surrounded by tents and crates full of equipment, the Conductor was just making one last round. It was late and everyone else had turned in for the night. Lazy bampots… If they left anything at the studio, there was nothing they could do: He just wanted to make sure everything was prepared for shooting the next day. 

He walked over to the main set. All of the flats had been constructed in advance and put up within hours to create both an interior and exterior view of a rustic cabin. They’d even managed to find a real iron stove to work with among the other, old-fashioned set pieces placed around. It looked idyllic… Right up until one remembered that the main character’s peaceful homelife would be horrifically destroyed, sending him on a spiral of self-destruction across the great, western landscape. 

The Conductor grinned proudly at himself, folding his arms across his chest. It was going to be a heartwarming film.

A light caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, glowing behind a wooden wagon and some other large props they’d need for different shots. Its golden radiance wobbled and wavered like a torch. The director’s smile faltered, figuring that someone must’ve left a lantern on. If much fuel had burned away, someone was getting it docked from their paycheck. Spinning on his heel, he walked over to put it out.

He was surprised to find a trio of bright beings there instead, rummaging through the set pieces. He stopped in his tracks, gawking at the sight. They were fire spirits: Humanoid, foxlike creatures that had a penchant for setting things aflame. Although their limbs and tails didn’t have as many of the polychromatic bands as adults, they were still bigger than him by at least a head. And he was pretty sure he hadn’t hired any to star in his movie.

Maybe one of the owls had done something to attract them. It wasn’t unheard of for them to wander through other parts of the world, but how far away were they from that cursed forest they were said to predominately originate from? Was it close by? He grimaced. It was bad enough for these things to be here, but he didn’t want to have to worry about any of the other woodland horrors that spawned from that place interfering with his set.

One thing at a time though… The foxes were making a mess of things, plucking other props from out of the wagon, curiously fiddling with them in their hands, and then tossing most over the shoulders in a bored way. His expression hardened as he felt a well of anger broil inside his chest and he marched toward them. Walking fire hazards or not, he wasn’t about to let them turn his set into a playground!

 _“Hey!”_ he screamed at the trio, practically bouncing from the intensity of his outburst with his hands clenched into fists at his sides. They turned to face him, ears fidgeting with interest. “Get your filthy paws off of me props and get lost! You hear me, you walking candle sticks?! Go! _Shoo!_ ”

If he were honest with himself, the Conductor had always had more bark than bite. He could get rough when he had to, but he didn’t have much to bring to a fight when unarmed. He made up for it in speed and posturing, but he wasn’t sure how useful that would be against the spiritual beings. Unconsciously, he kind of hoped his loud shouts would rile a few of the owls out of their tents for backup. Unfortunately, none showed to rally at his side.

Instead, the fire spirits stared at him a moment longer before turning to face one another and chitter among themselves in their own tongue of barks and yips. Slighted at what felt like a dismissing rebuff, the Conductor felt his anger grow and he moved to climb one of the wagon wheels, sputtering in frustration, “H-hey, did you hear me?! Don’t you ignore me! I’m talking to you three, _peck necks!_ Get going!” 

Before he made it into the wagon itself, a long snout popped down to meet his. The suddenness of the act and the sheer luminescence of bright face right in his own startled him enough to lose his grip and fall back, his eyes stinging. The director hissed through his beak, covering them until the strained feeling could pass.

He heard the soft pad of feet land at his side and tensed. One of the fire spirits was coiling around him curiously, sniffing at his form. Its body emitted a warmth similar to that of a low flame and it was so close that he could feel the tip of its tail brush against him. In the meantime, two other bodies dropped in front of him. 

His bravado slipped a bit. The Conductor had no choice but to wait for his eyes to readjust: Even then, he wasn’t sure he’d like what he’d see in the event he’d stirred the creatures to aggression. Nevertheless, when he could finally open them, he was merely greeted to the same, interested face that had caught him off-guard seconds before. Crouched down to all fours, one of the fire spirits stared at him intensely.

The other two remained silent, standing close to one another with their heads turning back and forth, over and over, from the bird to their own kindred. Their tails flicked and their ears batted at half-mast with intrigue. The Conductor himself remained stiff and bewildered.

Then he felt a pair of hands grab the tuffs that framed his face as the fox nearby gekkered in his ears. He remained still, half-expecting to bet set ablaze, only for the creature’s grip to withdraw just as swiftly to touch the sides of its own cheeks before repeating the again with its continued chatter. 

And its companions started to laugh, guffawing loudly in their typical, warbling way. 

The Conductor was baffled, but he didn’t have long to decipher the meaning to their behavior as the first repeated it—only this time tugging at the feathers near the back of his scalp as its ears wiggled. The director felt his whole body pulled back at the action and the other foxes only laughed harder at his expense. 

The perceived mockery was enough to enrage him again, his face flushing. With a brutish cry, the director tired to lash out at the first fire spirit with a wide, backward swing—missing by less than an arm’s length as it jumped back to the other two in a quick, twisting motion. He rolled onto his feet to chase after them and they took off, still gekkering with laughter all the while.

One of them scampered up a large haybale, propping itself over the edge in a low crouch on its stomach, tail wagging. The Conductor shouted after it, stamping the ground, “Oh no you don’t: Get down from there!”

Rather than listen, the fox began to chew on a few, stray pieces of hay sticking out of the mass. The tips of the dry grass took light, shriveling in a burst of sparks as they broke apart behind the creature’s teeth. The Conductor could only imagine the spirit gradually working its way to setting the entire bale on fire, along with the wide landscape they stood in. A field like this… It wouldn’t take long for the waves of grass to turn into a sea of flames if it wasn’t reign in quick.

A determined growl left him as he tried scaling after the spirit, clawed digits digging loosely through the hay in odd footholds. The fire spirit waited for him to _just_ reach the top before diving off and scampering away. He kept up the pursuit.

He was typically spry on his feet despite his age, but the fire spirit was still faster, keeping him at a distance if never letting him lose sight of itself. For a while, he didn’t even know where the remaining pair had gone: He was simply kept at a near breakneck pace, running around the film site and weaving through the tents. As they passed the ones his crew were sleeping in, he felt like cursing every one of them for not waking up to help him, the feeling manifesting into an aggravated scream. If decent workhands—ones that were used to his strict preferences—weren’t so hard to find, he’d fire them all!

His legs were burning! Lucky for him, he finally, _finally_ managed to corner the fox in between a stack of crates and some leftover flats. It’d been a while since he’d wrangled anything—back in his stunt days—but he kind of wished he had some rope with him anyway. Then again, the spirit would likely just sear through it…

Positioning himself to keep it pinned, he looked around fervently for something he could use: Maybe some wire or a cattle prod from one of the props. However, there was nothing like that anywhere to be found lying nearby. Instead, most of the boxes at hand were labeled with the explosives they planned to use for the main character’s tragic scene.

_…Oh no._

As soon as the thought came to mind—the words ‘Danger: Highly Flammable’ staring back at him in big, bold letters and from multiple angles amid the mountain of incendiaries—he spotted one of the other foxes poke its head over the top of the stack. He cringed, subconsciously backing away with a horrified look on his face as it started sniffing around and jumped face-first in a diving motion along the lids of some of the lower crates. The first soon joined it in its hunt for fiery goodies.

It the last spirit, however, that managed to reach a good portion of his stash. It was the quietest of the three, and the Conductor didn’t even notice it until he heard the sound of wood creaking as it popped open the lid of open of a nearby barrel to peep inside. 

“Pow-dah?” It stuck its snout at the contents, the tip momentarily coming out black when it lifted its head back out only then for the miniscule bleads to light up as it licked them off. “ _Pow-dah!_ ” 

As it happily dove into the barrel with its kin racing to join it, the Conductor spun on his heel at sight of the bright bloom from inside the container that immediately followed.

The last thought he had before he was thrown off his feet and his ears started to ring was that he needed a _strong_ drink…


End file.
